Change
by Aurora-cs
Summary: That is just the way life is." The Professor had replied "However, if a change is not for the better, you must not let it take hold and drag you down. Accept it, contemplate it so that you may learn something worthwhile from it, but do not let it linger."


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Professor Layton, Luke or Flora. They belong to Level-5 Inc. *weeps*

**Authors note: **I'm working on a multi-chaptered Professor Layton story, but this idea latched onto me today and demanded that I write it. A response to all of the 'Layton is dead' stories I've been reading with a different twist.

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**Change**

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The world was always changing.

In those first few days after meeting the Professor, Luke had asked him why.

The Professor had looked at him with a smile "It would be quite dull indeed if everything remained the same."

"What if it isn't a good change?" Luke had asked, thinking of his parents. "Why can't change always be good?"

"That is just the way life is." The Professor had replied. "However, if a change is not for the better, you must not let it take hold and drag you down. Accept it, contemplate it so that you may learn something worthwhile from it, but do not let it linger."

"I understand, Professor." Luke had been earnest and sincere. "I promise I won't let change get me down."

Luke had eagerly welcomed some changes, especially those which made life better, such as his marriage to Flora, or the birth of his two children. The joy that they had brought to him had been worth those confusing years as a teenager when the sight of Flora had made his heart skip a beat, or when he had changed their relationship, and when she had changed her name the day they had wed.

He understood what the Professor had meant - change was often good.

However, there came other changes that Luke did not like. Those which at first he tried to ignore, to pretend that they were not happening, but finally accept with a horrible ache in the pit of his stomach. At these times he would falter, but with the Professor's help continued to keep his promise.

Luke had always wanted to grow up. He was pleased with every growth spurt, proud of the moment when he was taught how to shave, and especially when his voice finally went beyond that period of alternating between normality and high-pitched squeaks to develop into a low tone that matched his appearance, but as he grew older, so did the Professor.

Layton had laughed away the first grey hair which Flora had found on his pillow when making the beds, and which Luke, still in that childish stage, had mercilessly teased him with for weeks afterwards. It had taken many years after that, but the day did come when every single hair on his head was grey, but the Professor did not seem bothered by it in the slightest. He treated it with the same attitude as the wrinkles which had appeared as if by magic, or the glasses which if not on his face, were always present nearby.

"As I told you, that is just the way life is." Layton had reminded him "There is no exilar of youth and we are all subject to the passing of time."

So while these changes had unsettled Luke, they did not frighten him until they became more distinctive.

The Professor had never called himself a detective, but in the years that Luke had known him he had been involved in many strange cases, some of which had involved a great deal of running. So when they had been investigating a robbery and given chase to a suspect, Luke had been shocked to see the Professor fall behind, and had stopped. The man had got away, and the Professor had reprimanded him, but neither of those things mattered as much to Luke as the sudden sweeping realisation that the Professor was getting older.

Layton had been fifty-two. Luke had been twenty-six, the same age as the Professor would have been when Luke was born, and Luke had a daughter who was eight, the same age that Luke had been when coming to live with the Professor.

Shortly after, the Professor had announced his 'retirement' from those investigations, and Luke had not wanted to continue without him, so it disapeared into the mists of time.

At fifty-seven, Layton stopped going on archaeological expeditions and ten years after that he had retired from his post as lecturer of archeology at the university. Though the Professor was now sixty-seven, and Luke was forty-one with another child and a two year old granddaughter, he still saw the Professor as that young man who had greeted him at the station and willingly removed his hat to show a nervous child that it was not hiding anything underneath.

Then there had been that phone call.

'L...L...Luke?..." The Professor's voice had been unmistakable, even as weak and shaking as it had sounded. 'Luke... I... Something is wrong. Can't speak properly. I... I don't know what happened. Stood up, but I don't remember falling. I... Luke? Luke, can you help me?"

It had been a stroke, paralysing the left side of the Professor's body. It had taken months before he could walk again, and from then on he had always carried a cane to compensate for his weaker side. With that indomitable will that Luke knew so well, in time the Professor seemed like his usual self, but remembering that unsure tone of voice, and seeing the confusion and fear on his face had finally made Luke afraid of the changes that time was bringing as it passed.

There were no further scares like that one, but there were more wrinkles, as well as the day when there were only a few wisps of hair remaining on the Professor's head. He had brushed off this information by Luke's young granddaughter by pointing out that her grandfather had rather a few grey hairs now himself, and many more than Layton had at the same age.

'Really grampapa?' Emily had asked.

'Oh yes." Layton had nodded seriously. 'A great many more, I assure you."

'I still have that hair you know.'

Luke had complained.

'Luke!" Flora had laughed. "You do not?"

He didn't, but Flora had believed him since it was the kind of thing he would have done at that age.

Time had continued to pass since then.

Now, at the age of sixty-four, Luke was still working as a veterinarian, but was going to be retiring soon. He continued to see the Professor every few days, as he was setting out to do now, dropping in to see him in the same house he had lived in as a child, and which had remained unchanged over time.

"Professor?" Luke knocked on the door. When the Professor didn't answer straight away, he let himself in. "Professor, it's Luke."

All he could hear was the clock in the hallway.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Perhaps the Professor was upstairs. Despite needing a cane to get around, his mentor had refused to move, stating that to do so would be to give in to his disabilities completely.

Luke stood at the bottom of the stairs and called out again.

Still no reply.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Then he passed the study and saw that the Professor was sitting in his chair. There was a book lying on his lap, which was unsurprisingly a book of puzzles. Even at the age of eighty-nine, Hershel Layton had not lost his genius for solving puzzles. There was a pencil lying on the page where an answer had been written before the Professor had fallen asleep.

"Professor." Luke gently shook his shoulder "Professor, wake up, it's Luke."

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

He stopped. The Professor wasn't sleeping. There was no gentle rise and fall of his chest, and when Luke pressed the fingers of a shaking hand to his throat, he found no pulse beating beneath it.

"Oh, Professor..." Luke swallowed.

Layton looked peaceful, a slight smile tracing his face, which comforted Luke. Ever since the stroke, he had been so afraid that the Professor would end his life in pain, and to know that it hadn't was such a relief, and instead of the anger or denial he had expected to feel when this time came, Luke felt calm.

He stood there for a little while before going out into the hall and using the phone to call Flora, who was understandably upset. Then he phoned for a doctor. Luke knew that there was nothing to be done, but that there were rules and procedures for this sort of thing and that a doctor was required to confirm what Luke already knew. He would probably recommend an undertakers, who would help arrange the funeral, which was where Luke would say goodbye.

He went back into the study and sat down in a chair near the window. Taking a pen and a piece of paper, he started to write.

_Professor Hershel Layton died on Friday aged eighty-nine. He was a respected Professor in the field of archeology, an amateur detective who solved many cases, and an avid devotee of puzzles. He was also a great man, who took in an orphan and an apprentice and showed them the kindness and love that any father would show their child. He is survived by his adopted son, Luke, his adopted daughter, Flora, two grandchildren and five great-grandchildren._

_He will be missed deeply._

There was so much more that Luke wanted to say, but even if he had all the time in the world and all the paper on which to write it, he would never be able to convey in words exactly how much the Professor had meant to him. From the first day they had met, he had done so much for Luke who if not for the Professor would have remained that child who had convinced himself that he did not need or deserve another family.

Once upon a time, Luke had been afraid of change, as a small boy sitting on a train that was taking him somewhere he had never been, to live with a person he had never met. That person had become a mentor, who had guided but never forced him into good habits and decisions, a teacher who had helped him with his schoolwork and taught him how to solve a puzzle, and above all a father who had encouraged him to follow his dreams and loved him deeply.

Luke was afraid of this change, but he owed it to the Professor to keep going.

After all, as a great man had told him, a gentleman always keeps his word.


End file.
